Sleep Tight
by skca54
Summary: As one life chapter comes to an end another begins.
1. A Beginning

**Authors Note:**

_I am not a writer. I hope though that I am converting what I see in my mind into a form that others can readily understand._

_I was inspired to write this by the many amazing Authors on Fan Fiction who write Kick-Ass Stories. We all know who they are. However my top author has to be Makokam and his epic saga Precocious Crush. I have loved every chapter and can't wait for the next few hundred chapters. Maybe even a mini-series!_

_I thought I would have a go myself. Although I am as far apart from Makokam in my writing skills as Dave is from Mindy when it comes to being a bad-ass!_

_This story attempts to fit in between Mindy/Dave landing on the roof and watching the sunrise and the start of Precocious Crush. I have primarily based my story on Makokam's interpretation of the characters as shown in Precocious Crush and give him full credit for this._

_I look forward, with some trepidation, to any reviews. I promise to accept any and all criticism. Also I am British so my spelling and grammar may look and seem strange to some._

**Additional Note:**

_Since initial publication I have started making some changes to the story that, hopefully, will improve it a bit and create a better reading experience. These changes have been inspired by reviews and advice from real writers._

* * *

"Sleep Tight," I whisper to my Daddy.

I wake up with a violent start from the dream, no, not a dream a nightmare.

Everything is dark, I have no idea where I am. I have no memory of anything recent, let alone where I am and why.

I feel hot and sweaty. My heart is beating very fast. I feel the onset of panic. I sit up, or at least try to, my body hurts so much it will not move. Everything hurts. I whimper at the pain.

_I whimpered_! I _do not_ whimper! What is going on? Where am I?


	2. Memories

I wake up again. I remember the pain. It must have made me pass out. I open my eyes slowly, I turn my head to look about. This time I can, just, make out my immediate surroundings, there is a little light coming through the curtains. _My_ curtains. With a sudden shock I realise: I am in _my_ room, on _my_ bed. At least I know the _where_, but now the _why_.

I raise my head up, with difficulty as my head is still very sore, and look down at myself. I am wearing my Hit Girl costume, at least some of it. My gloves are off, my top is unzipped - I still have my Kevlar vest on - No mask or wig either. I wiggle my toes - "Where the fuck are my boots and socks!" I whisper to myself in consternation. I look down to the floor. I see my boots, socks, gloves, utility belt, cloak and a harness. _A harness_? They are all dumped in a pile. I can't remember _how_ I got to my bed or _why_ I had been in my costume. I really don't like not knowing what is going on.

I _never_ sleep in my costume. Daddy would _never_ let me go to bed in it. Why did he this time? I move slightly on the bed. Pain shoots across my back. An intense pain followed by the same pain in my chest. I cry out with the pain. Nobody came! Daddy always comes when I am in pain.

* * *

Wham! It hit me like a speeding train.

I hear my own voice in my mind. _"You are the kindest Daddy in the world. I love you too, Daddy. I love you too, Daddy. Sleep tight."_

I feel an intense sadness and a sudden realisation.

_My Daddy is dead._

I sit bolt upright. Pain shoots through my chest, back and head. I whimper at the pain. I am disgusted with myself - I _whimpered_! _Hit Girl does not whimper_! I fight through pain and use it to my advantage, channel it at my targets. _I do not whimper!_

My memory is still blank as to how I got here and why my Daddy is dead. I have nobody else. An intense feeling of loneliness hits me. I can't think straight. I try to think till my head starts to hurt even more. I start to see images flashing through my mind. _Strange images!_

Safe house B. Red guy. Muzzle flashes. Falling. Blackness.

A dark warehouse. Men dying at _my_ hand. Green guy?

A marble lobby. More dead men. A corridor. More dead men.

Bazooka!?

That green guy again! A flying green guy! Gatlings! _I'm fucking losing it! This has to be nightmare!_

More physical pain than I have ever felt before. A big man punching me. The bazooka again! Green guy!

Flying? A beautiful sunrise. A name ... Dave. Who is Dave?

Then nothing else.

I must have been on something last night! Those were just some _crazy_, impossible, thoughts! I can't make any sense from them. But they are, at this point, all I have. I lay back slowly to allow the pain to ease. I am breathing heavily and struggle to get my breathing under control. My mind is in overload. I don't know what to do.


	3. Dave

The pain has eased, partially anyway. I can't get the green guy out of my head. He seems important to all this. He was on one thing that kept cropping up in my recent memories.

However, more importantly, I need to use the bathroom, soon. I slide gently, cringing with pain, off my bed and stand up, swaying slightly as I get my balance, open my door and shuffle straight to the bathroom. I look in the mirror. Not a nice sight, also more fucking questions arise! Why do I have pig tails while dressed as Hit Girl? I have dried blood around my mouth and nose. I must have been hit. My chest is bruised to fuck, as is my back. I dread to think what they look like. My head is very sore and pounding. I have three round holes in my top. That explains the bruises on my chest, at least! My mouth and throat are dry as saw dust. I grab some pain killers from the cabinet and wash them down with water from the sink. I down another glass of water for good measure.

Once I have finished making use of the bathroom I shuffle towards the kitchen. Just doing a simple thing like using the bathroom was painful. I almost didn't pull my pants back up due to the pain of doing it. I see green in my peripheral vision. I whirl around. There is a green guy looking at me. He is standing by my Daddy's workbench. Although this time he has a face instead of a mask. He is smiling at me. _Glad I kept my pants on! That could have been embarrassing!_

My mind automatically goes into high gear. Who is he? Why is he in the safe house? More importantly, why am I not attacking him? Two reasons come to mind. At the moment I couldn't fight anything, also something in the back of my mind told me not to.

A bright light clicks on in my mind. Suddenly a flood of memories return like a movie playing at high speed. They memories seem jumbled up. Not sure if they are in chronological order, but any memories are better than none!

His name is Dave Lizewski. He saved my life - _he did_? He had a part in my Daddy dying - _bastard_. He killed Frank D'Amico with a bazooka - _a fucking bazooka_! He saved my life twice - _twice_? I smirk as I remember that I have saved his incompetent, sorry ass twice. So, at least, we are even, I couldn't owe my life to anybody.

Green guy is saying something to me.

"Hi, Mindy. How are you feeling?"

_He knows my name! _More memories return. I trust him, not completely, but enough to let him into my secret life. Who else do I have at this point?

"Like a fucking bazooka went off in my head, dumb-ass. Where the fuck did you get a bazooka, anyway?"

"Good to hear 'Hit Girl' is OK!"

I glared at him. He visibly shrank back from me. I smirked and it felt good to see that I was still in charge ... and that he knew it. I walked over to him and told him to sit down. He is too tall and it would hurt my neck to look up at him! So I'm short - get over it!

"OK, Kick-Ass, I need answers."

"I can believe that, you did get banged around a bit. Go ahead, Mindy."

"How did I get to my bed? Did you undress me?" Dave looked a bit worried. I didn't care, I wanted - no - I needed answers to make sense of what was going through my mind. Anyway I love fuckin' with people!

"You collapsed on the roof after we got back from D'Amico's. You really worried me. I carried you down, placed you on your bed. Removed some of your costume. Only enough to make you comfortable." Dave said quickly. "I was not going to undress a ten year-old girl completely. You've been asleep for almost 24 hours."

"I am _not_ fucking ten, ass-hole," Mindy yelled making Dave jump. Then in a quieter tone. "For your information I am eleven. Got it! Why did you let me sleep so damn long for? No wonder I feel like shit." I smirked again. "You _look_ like shit though, Dave."

"Thanks, I feel like shit."

"I am going for a shower and then, I think, you should too, Dave." A thought came to me. "You can use some of my," I faltered for a second, "Daddy's clothes. In there." I pointed to Daddy's room before going into the bathroom. After closing the door and turning the shower on, I struggled out of my costume and Kevlar vest. Thanks to my back and chest it was damn painful. I whimpered again! Loudly! Hope that ass-hole didn't hear that, _ten - that still rankles_, I have a bad-ass reputation to uphold, after all!


	4. Letter from Daddy

I thought I heard a whimper from the bathroom. That was another surprise. First time I ever heard Mindy _or_ Hit Girl whimper/complain about anything. I always thought she was too hard and cold for that! I smiled. Although in retrospect Hit Girl did complain about me, often, as it was me doing the whimpering!

Maybe she does have a human side! Now I know she is only eleven years old, it occurred to me that the human body can only take so much physical and mental punishment and Mindy, as Hit Girl, managed: to get shot multiple times, fall from a window, see her father die after she had killed around a dozen men, kill another dozen men running a gauntlet and then get pounded to within an inch of her life by a grown man - all in the course of one night! I would not expect even a Marine to be capable of all that! She is a bad-ass, no doubt about that - and at only eleven years-old! An involuntary shudder shot through me at the thought of what she was capable of when _not_ at 100% efficiency, like during that night.

I thought back to the roof. Hit Girl told me her secret identity - Mindy Macready. A sudden thought came to me; does that place me at risk? No, I don't think so. She would have killed me by now if she was going to, no way I could have prevented that. She must trust me, at least a bit. Who else does she have? She told me her mother was dead, now her father is too. She only had me to turn to for help assaulting D'Amico. She must have been desperate if I was the best she had!

I trust her. I think. At least as far as you can trust a bad-ass assassin like Hit Girl!

After watching the sunrise over Manhattan, Mindy had turned and said she was hungry and started to walk to the stairs. Then, hearing a noise behind me, I turned and Mindy was lying on the roof her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling slowly, she had collapsed. Initially I started to panic. After a minute I calmed down and realised that she must have fainted. I couldn't just leave her there. I picked Mindy up like I did at D'Amico's and carried her down to the safe house. I placed Mindy on her bed, removed the jet-pack harness and her utility belt, unzipped her top, removed her gloves, clock, boots and socks. I closed the curtains and the bedroom door, then I sat down at one of the desks and the next thing I knew I woke up to Mindy coming out of her bedroom hours later. I couldn't believe it was the _next_ morning. I've never slept that long in all my life. My back was sore from sleeping in such a bad position for so long, not to mention all the bruises from the warehouse and elsewhere. Thank God for my warped pain threshold! I really must have been tired!

I picked up some sweat pants and a top from Big Daddy's room, half expecting Big Daddy to walk in and kill me on the spot. Just the thought of that man sends giant shudders through me. Big Daddy seems the type of guy that would come back and haunt anybody that gets anywhere near his daughter. Then again his daughter is quite capable of looking after herself!

I heard the bathroom door open and Mindy appeared dressed in what seemed to be normal girl clothes, a mixture of purple and pink - no surprise there! The pig tails are still there though - she must like them. She looks quite cute. Definitely not what I would normally expect a bad-ass assassin to look like!

"Your turn, ass." It is hard to tell when she is fuckin' with me and when she might actually hurt me.

* * *

I went straight to the kitchen and heard Dave close the bathroom door, as I grabbed an energy bar from a kitchen cupboard and ripped it open ravenously. I realised I hadn't eaten in almost thirty hours. Damn that was good! I grabbed another. I felt a lot better after the hot shower. It gave me the opportunity to explore my body and find all the bruises. I lost count after thirty. The hot water eased my muscles, tough. My chest and back are about the same colour as my costume, but for some reason I seem to think that's cool!

A memory entered my mind. A memory long pushed way back, hopefully never to be required. I went to my bedroom and pulled a small, creased envelope from the drawer beside my bed. The envelope is white, sealed, with only my name, Mindy, written on the front in my Daddy's handwriting. I felt tears coming to my eyes. I willed them back. On ripping open the envelope I found a small, white, sheet of plain paper with my Daddy's handwriting. The urge to cry was stronger, but now was not the time.

My Daddy gave me this envelope three years ago. It had replaced a previous one. I was forbidden to open the envelope, unless something happened to my Daddy. The letter had a phone number and a man's name. The letter also told me to promise that I would follow this man's instructions and let him look after me.

* * *

I must have zoned out as the next thing I knew Dave was standing beside me trying to get my attention. I stuffed the letter and envelope into the pocket of my jeans, aware that my eyes were moist.

"Mindy."

"Mindy."

"Mindy!"

"Hey, ass! Didn't see you there." I smirked to cover up my discomfort. I was not going to allow Dave to see me cry - ever.

"Thanks for letting me use the shower and borrowing some clothes. I can't exactly go home as Kick-Ass!"

"A bruised and battered Kick-Ass, you mean. Dave, there's coffee in the kitchen cupboard if you want any ..."

There was a loud banging on the safe house door.


	5. Marcus

Dave froze with a panicked expression on his face. I ignore him. My training took over; I left the bedroom and grabbed an automatic pistol from the wall, inserted a loaded magazine and pulled back the slide. I moved towards the door.

The banging on the door stopped. A voice.

"Mindy! Mindy! Are you in there?" A short pause. "It's Marcus. Mindy!"

I let out a semi-relieved groan, lowered the pistol, cleared it and placed it back on the wall. Marcus? What the hell is he doing here at the safe house? How the hell does he know I am here? Then I remembered my Daddy's note. The note to be opened if anything happened to him. The note told me to contact Marcus and let him look after me. I opened the door, slowly. Marcus came in and closed the door behind him. He turned to me with a very relieved look on his face.

"Thank God you are safe... I saw the video... Damon... I'm so sorry. " He hugged me tightly. I grimaced and whimpered. _What is this fucking whimpering! Am I going insane!_

Marcus immediately jumped back, letting go of me with a panicked/concerned look on his face. "Are you hurt, Mindy?"

I smiled, weakly. "A little bruised. Nothing I can't handle!" A little Hit Girl bravado always helps!

Marcus noticed Dave standing in my bedroom door. "Who the hell are you?" he shouted. "What are you doing here with Mindy?"

"Marcus calm down. This is Dave. He - ," I hesitated. "Dave is Kick-Ass."

Marcus started to reach for his gun. What the hell does Marcus think he's doing?

"No, Marcus!" I yelled. "_Dave saved my life_. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't _be_ here. Frank D'Amico would have _killed_ me." It occurred to me that saying Dave saved me _twice in one night_ might have been too much, too soon. Besides Hit Girl is not supposed to need saving! Marcus let his hand drop away from his gun. Dave had fallen back into the bedroom in panic and was just picking himself up. Seriously, I am starting to think that this could not have been the Dave that saved my life!

I looked directly at Dave. "It's OK, Dave. Marcus is a cop. He was my Daddy's partner."

"He won't hurt you." I added, looking pointedly at Marcus.

"OK! I won't hurt him! I came here to take you home. Away from all _this_." Marcus waved his hand at the weapons lining the walls.

Marcus was clearly not a fan of what my Daddy did. "OK, Marcus. Can you give me time to pack? A couple of hours? Come back this afternoon to pick me up."

Marcus debated this for a minute. "OK. No 'Hit Girl' stuff, Mindy," Marcus warned.

"Of course not, Marcus," I said with my sweetest, little girl, smile.

Marcus did not seem convinced. "Riiiight! I will pick you up at three. Bye."

Once Marcus had left and the door was shut I started to pack.

"I saw the note. Is he now your guardian?" Dave asked.

I was annoyed that Dave saw the note. I snapped back, "Yes! Now help me pack."


	6. Alone

I have packed up all my clothes and other personal items. I don't seem to have much in the way of personal items, never really noticed that before. Daddy always insisted that we could travel light if necessary. I want to take my weapons, they are a part of me. I have packed my Hit Girl costume, of course. Not sure if I will get to use it again though. I can't take any guns, not yet. I will need to figure something out later for them. A few knives should be OK, though. Easily concealable.

Dave looks at me strangely as I take a knife or two off the wall. OK, two had actually turned into several.

"What! I have a weakness for blades. What can a Hit Girl say?" I stated as I smirked at Dave.

"'Just blades'?" Dave said very sarcastically as he waved his hand at the several dozen guns lining the room. I glare at Dave. He does not recoil so badly this time. The fucker smiled at me. Damn! I want to punch him for smiling at me, but I have a conflicting feeling that tells me not to, again! "Just what I need," I thought sarcastically. Dave gets a pass... Again!

* * *

I checked the time. It was just before noon. I was feeling very hungry. "Want some lunch, Dave?"

"Err, OK."

Five minutes later we were walking down the street. We stopped at a small place that sold burgers. I bought Dave and I a cheeseburger and Coke each. The burgers do not look at all appetising, but food is food and I need food, now. Also Daddy did not exactly pick this part of town for it's cuisine, just its anonymity. Once we had finished eating we walked back towards the safe house.

I had started to realise that I felt comfortable with Dave, maybe I was right: he does have potential. When I needed him he came through for me, despite his _obvious_ failings. There is definitely more to Dave than you would think looking at him. I was deep in thought about this potential issue when I heard Dave moan, "Oh, shit, not again." I looked up to see a medium build white man holding a seven inch kitchen knife in his right hand and pointing the knife at Dave.

I snapped.

"You fucking ass-hole," I shouted at the mugger, as I grabbed a balisong from my jacket pocket, flipped it open and threw myself towards the idiot. I grabbed his collar, pulling him down to my height and placing the point of the balisong to his throat. A few drops of blood dropped to the side-walk. The mugger froze in shock at the pain and seeing this little girl suddenly appear in his face, so fast - with a knife! "You picked a bad, bad, day for this. I am _so_ not in the mood," I growled. The mugger dropped the knife. I let go of him and he fled. I flipped the balisong closed and stuck it back in my pocket. Nobody near by seemed to have noticed anything.

"That felt _so_ good! Ow, my back still fucking hurts!" I look at Dave. He is breathing heavily and leaning against the wall of a building for support. He looked worried. Not sure why. Had he forgotten who he was walking down the street with?

"I hate being mugged," he moaned, then he looked directly at me. "That was cool, though, I think! Thanks! You still scare me you know."

"Good! No problem! I enjoyed it!" I gave Dave a brief smile followed by a Hit Girl smirk. I am pleased that I still scare him. I thought I was losing my touch before.

Dave seemed a bit weak on his feet so we took our time returning to the safe house.

I took the time to think over my current position in life. I should be looking at Dave as an enemy, a traitor at least, like that Red Mist - _that bastard shot me three times, three fucking times_. But I don't, I can't. I see him as... What? A friend? A crime-fighting partner? I trust him, for some reason. I just feel inside that I am making the correct decision. I suppose I must trust him to have revealed my greatest secrets to him. Daddy would be very mad at me for revealing anything to 'Ass-Kick'. I smiled to myself at that name, but still felt a twinge of sadness.

By the time we got back to the safe house it was nearly two. Dave left me at the safe house door to go home, as he said his Dad must be worrying about him by now.

Marcus will be here in an hour anyway.

I finished my packing and looked around the safe house. I feel sad leaving my home. "I love you, Daddy. I miss you. Sleep Tight," I whisper to myself as tears well up again.

* * *

Marcus is not here yet ... I _feel_ alone ... I _am_ alone ... _No_ ... I am _not_ alone ... _I have Dave_.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Thanks for reading. I have made some changes taking into account reviews and advice from other writers. Added another chapter too.

* * *

OK, what were my reasons behind 'Sleep Tight'?

After watching the first movie a couple of times it occurred to me that the movie creators glossed over, possibly for censor reasons, the fact that Hit Girl had been beaten to an inch of her life at the end of the movie.

After landing on the roof with Kick-Ass, having escaped from the D'Amico building and ignoring a small amount of blood, Hit Girl behaved as though she had just come back from a Jet-Pack sight-seeing tour of Manhattan with Kick-Ass!

Considering that Hit Girl had been through a somewhat difficult few hours you would have expected some more visible injuries and maybe some indication of other hidden injuries.

If we consider that Hit Girl:

1 - Was shot three times at close range in the chest. Vests only go so far at absorbing the impact.

2 - Was knocked out of a window and dropped a dozen feet onto her back and presumably knocked out.

3 - Tracked down the site where Big Daddy and Kick-Ass were being tortured. Killed some men. Saw her father being burnt to death. Killed some more men and then had her father die in front of her.

4 - Assaulted a well defended building killing a large number of armed men with knives and guns.

5 - Had to endure a torrent of weapons fire when armed with nothing but a pair of kitchen knives, including the threat of a bazooka.

6 - Took on a 45-year old man, with martial arts training, single handed who proceeded to beat her down from that start. She was, apparently, too exhausted to notice or avoid the initial kick to the face and then things just went down hill from there. Frank D'Amico had much more strength available than Hit Girl - who despite her mental and physical skills and training still has the, admittedly well honed, but limited body of an eleven year-old girl. Ultimately Hit Girl was thrown down hard enough onto a desk that the desk collapsed. This also being on her back that would already be aggravated from earlier activities and strenuous movements.

7 - Was incapable of movement, before Kick-Ass intervened, and had at one stage passed out after the two vicious punches from Frank D'Amico.

8 - Could only just lift her head enough to see the explosion, after Kick-Ass blew Frank D'Amico out of the window.

9 - Had to literally be scooped off the desk by Kick-Ass and hooked onto the Jet-Pack harness.

I am aware that the film creators had enough difficulties portraying an eleven year-old girl being beaten, very badly, by a 45 year-old man and did not want to show a badly injured Hit Girl. I am also aware that in the comic Hit Girl does use a stimulant to increase her capabilities, at least temporarily. Maybe we are expected to assume this occurred in the first film similar to the event in the second film. Maybe it had not worn off yet.


	7. Sadness

**Authors Note:**

I have decided to add another chapter. Might be the last - we will see. Depends how creative I feel. Again, thanks for reading.

* * *

As I expected he would, Marcus arrived promptly at three. He helped me carry my bags down to his car and then I took the chance to have a last, long, look at my home. I had no idea if I would ever see the place again. I have a feeling that Marcus will try to keep me as Mindy Macready and stamp-out Hit Girl. After all the last time he really knew or saw me I was a tiny five year-old girl who knew nothing of Hit Girl's life of revenge, killing and blood.

Standing in my bedroom, the sadness I had been putting off welled up inside me. The tears started and I could not stop them rolling down my face. I had never felt this helpless before. I shouted at the walls, "Why! My life was good! Why did my Daddy have to die!" My hands balled into fists as I shouted, "It's all _his_ fucking fault!" I pounded a hole in the wall's soft plaster. "You _bastard_ Dave, you killed my Daddy!"

My hands hurt. The pain brought me back to me senses. It was the first time since that night that I had thought to blame Dave for my Daddy being dead. I knew it was _not_ Dave's fault. He was taken in by that Red Mist - _that bastard shot me three times, three fucking times._ I can't help feeling emotional every time I think of that Red Mist _and_ that the bastard got the drop on me - _nobody_ gets the drop on Hit Girl, _nobody_. Every time I get emotional over Daddy, I seem to blame Dave. I shouldn't. After all if it wasn't for Dave, I would be dead with a bullet through my head or been blown up by a bazooka. However at the back of my mind I can hear myself saying, "_And if it wasn't for you, my Dad wouldn't be._"

No.

Dave is just too easy to manipulate. Red Mist - _that bastard shot me three times, three fucking times_ - I really need to get a hold of myself! He saw he could manipulate Dave and did so. Dave never saw it coming. I hope Dave doesn't feel he is to blame, I would hate that. I will have to ask him about it sometime, but not for a while. Dave stuck by me when I needed him most. I would not have blamed him if he had left me alone at the safe house and gone home after I suggested he help me. He was really scared. If he _had_ left me - no jet-pack, no gatlings, no Mindy Macready - literally._  
_

Would I have assaulted D'Amico without knowing I had Kick-Ass as backup? I honestly don't know. I don't think I was really thinking clearly after Daddy died. At the time I desired revenge. Daddy taught me not to be afraid to die. Normally I would have had Big Daddy as my backup. However, this time, I ran out of weapons. In hindsight I made mistakes, _big_ mistakes. But at the end of it all _Dave_ saved me from the bazooka. _Dave_ killed D'Amico and saved my life, again. _Dave_ got me away from the D'Amico building, when I could not even move. _Dave_ helped me after I collapsed on the roof. It all keeps coming back to Dave. He had every opportunity to abandon me at different stages, but he didn't. Why? Maybe I will ask him one day. I feel a bond, what sort of bond I don't know, but a bond _is_ growing between us. Not just us shaking hands on the roof. He is a friend. A true friend? A best friend? No, too early to tell yet. My only friend? Yes. Hopefully I can talk to him about these things we have in common, as I don't think I will be able to talk about that night, or anything 'Hit Girl' related with Marcus. That point seemed to have been made clear.

After a last look around I leave my home, close and lock the door, then join Marcus downstairs in the car.

"You OK, Mindy? You were up there a long time."

"Yes," I pause. "Yes, Marcus. I am."

I have Dave.

Maybe, my life will be different.


End file.
